


suddenly i’m helpless (look into your eyes, oh those eyes)

by f3atherl1ght



Category: Sherlock (TV), 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sherlock (TV), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, I am not sorry, I saw this in a vision please forgive me, M/M, Mentions of War, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, also when i say slow burn i mean Slow Fucking Burn dude, edgar allan poe is now an ex soldier, lev is back on her bullshit, no beta we die like men, non consensual knife play aka stabbing, spoiler alert they fall in love, tbh outright wish fulfillment on my part, the ships will make sense as the story goes on, theres a little bit of everything, tutorial on how to tag works correctly please, yes this is named after a hamilton song
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27218170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f3atherl1ght/pseuds/f3atherl1ght
Summary: the last thing famed detective ranpo edogawa expected was to get a roommate who would be joining him on his cases - to say the least, edgar allan poe definitely didn’t expect it to turn out this way either.
Relationships: Edogawa Ranpo & Edgar Allan Poe (Bungou Stray Dogs), Edogawa Ranpo & Kunikida Doppo (Bungou Stray Dogs), Edogawa Ranpo & Yosano Akiko (Bungou Stray Dogs), Edogawa Ranpo/Edgar Allan Poe (Bungou Stray Dogs), Kunikida Doppo & Yosano Akiko (Bungou Stray Dogs), Kunikida Doppo/Yosano Akiko (Bungou Stray Dogs), Louisa May Alcott & Edgar Allan Poe (Bungou Stray Dogs), Ozaki Kouyou/Edgar Allan Poe (Bungou Stray Dogs)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi !! this is the prologue as i’m too lazy to write a full chapter right now, but i’m working on it! i hope you enjoy :> kudos and comments are appreciated, i’d also love to see some constructive criticism if possible because i’m still experimenting with writing.

The man woke up, startled. The memories flashing through his mind brought him to a time he would rather forget, in defeat he moved his forearm over his eyes to cover the fact they were already glossing over. His apartment’s atmosphere certainly didn’t help the way his heart rattled against his chest like a caged bird, it was cramped, dull, grey - emotionless even. A sharp inhale passed his chapped lips, it was almost a cry for help.

At some point, he had managed to find the courage to get out of bed and face the day that would be ahead of him. Despite the way walking made his bones ache and creak; he knew he had to do it, everyone began recovery somewhere and this seemed like it would be the kickstarter to his. There wasn’t much in the fridge, a carton of milk and a few apples seemed to be all that was there, but it would have to do as he didn’t know if he could leave his apartment today.

He grabbed a green apple, taking a bite without even chopping it up - even that had filled a spot in his stomach already. Poe found himself wandering further into the kitchen, switching on the coffee machine by the wall so he could wake himself up a little more. By the time his coffee had been made, he had finished with his apple and found himself craving another. He chucked the core in the bin and grabbed another from in the fridge, as well as his coffee from the coffee machine.

Moments later he found himself in front of his laptop’s screen, sat at the rather small dining room table - coffee and apple long forgotten after he found out the aftertaste black coffee left in your mouth didn’t go too well with fresh apples. The sound of birds chirping and the bell from the church down the road filled the silence left in his apartment as he attempted to write for his blog, the Rue Morgue, yet again.

Venturing out of his apartment was something the dark haired man rarely ever found himself doing, aside from his once a week trip to the chippy down the road or to the corner shop to get the rare few things to eat or even the meet ups he dreaded going to - he understood they were for his benefit, Louisa (his friend who organised it) constantly assured him so, but they just bothered him in a way he couldn’t word. 

“Have you had any luck on your blog yet?”

He nodded his head slightly, his bangs covering post of his face just made him seen like a moving mop - he’d be considering a haircut soon. Probably. That’s if he even ended up turning up for it, “yes.. a little-” Edgar insisted pitifully, despite the fact her was so obviously lying, he went with it anyway - with a small clear of his throat, he spoke up again, “- it’s going alright.”

The strawberry blonde in the seat across from him let out an exasperated sigh, “you haven’t actually written a word, have you?” He blinked owlishly, his index finger discreetly pointing to the notepad she sat on her lap, “you just wrote I have trust issues.” Louisa’s hands clasped together on her lap, another worn out sigh passing her lips, “and you read my writing upside down. You see what i mean?”

Poe had frowned, slouching into his seat as if it would take away the judging look he felt his longtime friend send him. “Edgar-” she started, her eyebrows furrowing as she fought with her subconscious about the best words to use, “-you’re an ex-soldier, it’s going to take you a while to adjust to civilian life. Writing a blog about everything that happens to you, will honestly help you,”

“Nothing happens to me.”


	2. detectives and doctors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> detective inspector akutagawa and higuchi both receive an annoying thread of texts from a certain self proclaimed detective, whilst poe catches up with an old friend in the park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings for:
> 
> suicide - in the first few paragraphs - it’s not graphically described, or anything like that, just mentioned, but i still wanted to add this in.  
> war - it’s brief and a big part of poe’s character in this, so you’re probably already aware of it if you read through my horrendous tagging or the summary.

“The body of Beth Davenport, Junior Minister for Transport, was found late last night on a building site in Greater London. Preliminary investigations suggest that this was a suicide, we can confirm that this apparent suicide closely resembles those of Sir Jeffrey Patterson and James Phillimore. In the light of this, these incidents are now being treated as linked. The investigation is ongoing, but Detective Inspector Akutagawa will take questions now.”

Then the loud chatter began, after working as a detective for so many years now, you would think Akutagawa and Higuchi got used to the loud and indistinct chatter of the press when they began to ask questions - but they certainly had not. Once the chatter calmed, a certain member of the press with shaggy hair spoke up, “Detective Inspector, how can suicides be linked?”

He let out a small huff, looking up to the man and stared him directly in the eyes, “Well, they all took the same poison, they were all found in places they had no real reason to be, none of them had shown any prior intentions-“ Akutagawa began to list, his eyebrows furrowed as he was interrupted. “But you can’t have serial suicides,” the reporter protested. “Well, apparently you can now.”

“These three people, there’s nothing that links them?”

“We haven’t found one yet, but we are definitely looking for it, there has to be one,” Akutagawa stated, frustration laced in his tone before he coughed into a white cloth, which caused Higuchi to discreetly slide him a bottle of water across the table. He sent her a small nod of thanks before unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. Then, the mobile phones of the reporters and detectives alike went off. There was only one person in the world who would have the nerve to set that up.

‘Wrong!’ The text read, it spread confusion through the entire room. The blonde immediately took action, “if you’ve all got texts, please ignore them.” The same shaggy haired reporter from before spoke up again, “it just says ‘wrong’,” he stated in confusion - much like the other reporters who had no idea what was going on. “Yeah, well, just ignore that. If there are no more questions for Detective Inspector Akutagawa, I’m going to bring this session to an end.”

“If they’re suicides, what are you investigating?” “As I’ve already said, these suicides are clearly linked-” Akutagawa repeated, annoyance dripping from his tone - even the press should know most suicides are investigated, “-it’s an unusual situation, we’ve got our best people investigating.” Then, the phones went off again, different ring tones going through the room, it was almost giving Higuchi a headache at this point. “It just says ‘wrong’ again.”

“Is there any chance that these ‘suicides’ are actually murders? And if they are, could this be the work of a serial killer?”

The black and white haired detective sighed, “I-“ he began only to be interrupted by a rather painful cough before carrying on, “-I know that you’d like writing about these, but they do appear to be suicides, we do know the difference, “The poison was clearly self-administered.” Again, the snotty reporter with odd shaped glasses and a pointy nose spoke up, “Yes, but if they are murders, how do people keep themselves safe?”

“Obviously, this is a frightening time for people, but all anyone has to do is exercise reasonable precautions. We are all as safe as we want to be.” Again, unfortunately, the mobiles phones all went off, the repeating ringtones had begun to frustrate Higuchi - so much so that she was tempted to break Akutagawa's in half. Whilst the members of the press received their thousandth ‘wrong!’ message, his read completely different.

‘You know where i am :)

\- Ranpo.’

After another meeting with Louisa, Poe had the bright idea of walking through the park, it was a shortcut to his apartment and he would get a little bit of sunshine - maybe he wouldn’t look as deathly pale as usual. “Edgar! Edgar Allan Poe!” A man shouted, scurrying up from his place on a wooden park bench to catch up with the limping man. “Steinbeck, John Steinbeck. We were at Barts together.” 

The dark haired man nodded after racking his brain for a few moments, “Yes, sorry- John, hello.” He looked him up and down, his eyebrows furrowing a little - well he certainly didn’t look how Poe remembered him to. “Yeah, I know, I look different,” John laughed, his hand moving up to adjust his hat before realising he didn’t wear one anymore, so he played it off as if he was stretching, “I heard you were abroad getting shot at, what happened?”

“I got shot.”

Moments later, the two of them found themselves sitting at a bench, paper cups of badly tasting coffee in their hands. “Are you still at Barts then?” Poe asked curiously, resting his walking stick against the bench, “Because, Lovecraft still is, isn’t he?” The ex-soldier nodded his head, “We both are! Well, Lovecraft is teaching now. Bright young things like us lot used to be,” he grinned. His eyebrows furrowed, the only bright one of the trio was certainly John. 

“What about you, Edgar? Staying in London till you get yourself sorted?”

He let out a laugh of disbelief, “I can’t afford London on an Army pension. I’ll probably end up moving down to Manchester or go back home, but I haven’t made any plans for it yet.” The red head snorted, shaking his head at his old time friend, “But you couldn’t bear to be anywhere else. That’s not the Poe I know.” The dark haired ex-soldier cringed at the use of an old nickname, “I’m not the ‘Poe’.”

“Couldn’t Rosalie or William help?” He asked curiously, his head tilting as he took a sip of his hot drink. Poe scoffed in disbelief, his fist clenching and his nails digging into his palm, “Yeah. Like that’ll ever happen.” John nodded his head in understanding, setting the half empty coffee cup besides him on the bench, “I don’t know, get a flat share or something?”

“Come on, who’d want me for a flat mate?” The dark haired man protested, John let out a laugh no one knew he had in him. Edgar looked at him and narrowed his eyes, “What?” “You’re the second person to say that to me today,” he grinned, a tone of cockiness seeping through his words. 

“Who was the first then?”

Ranpo stretched out his arms before unzipping the body bag, peering into it with one hand on his hat so it wouldn’t fall off, “How fresh is it?” She flipped through the white papers clipped securely on the clipboard, “Only just in,” Yosano stated as she pulled on her white doctor’s coat, cuffing the sleeves so they weren’t too long, “I knew him actually, he used to work here, a good laugh he was.”

“Do you think you could hit it?” the detective asked, looking over to his black haired friend with a raised brow. “Hit it? Why on earth would you want to do that?” she retaliated, Yosano’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she set the clipboard down on the side. “A man’s alibi depends on it… I need to know what bruises form in the next twenty minutes,” he explained, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Just send me photos of it, I’ll figure it out based on what you send me.” The black haired woman was still confused on how future bruises could link to an alibi, but she nodded her head and walked off to a cupboard on the other side of the room - let’s just say there were some interesting things in there. “Will a riding crop do?” she asked curiously, holding out the black leather crop to show the detective. 

“It will, yeah-” Ranpo started before he looked over at his friend, not sure whether he should be disgusted or not - the realisation had set in. His friend was a bit of a pervert? He cleared his throat a little before speaking up once again, “Bloody hell. Why would you even have one of those on hand? Nevermind, I don’t even want to ask.” The ravenette clasped a hand over her mouth as if it would prevent the series of giggles about to escape her lips.

He adjusted the way his hat sat on his head before heading over to the door, “I just hope she doesn’t use it on Kunikida, what a poor man,” he mumbled to himself quietly before stepping out into the corridor.


End file.
